


That Old Black Magic

by nonnybonny



Category: Swan Princess (1994)
Genre: Dark Magic, F/M, Forced Marriage, Mind Control, Painful Sex, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-19 23:22:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonnybonny/pseuds/nonnybonny
Summary: When Prince Derek found Odette and vowed to swear his everlasting love, he didn't realize he was playing right into Rothbart’s plans.The fact was, Rothbart needed Odette to say “yes;” he didn’t need her to mean it.





	That Old Black Magic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [colorcoded](https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorcoded/gifts).



> It never made sense to me that Rothbart told Odette how to break the spell, so here's the noncon forced marriage what-if for why he'd even do that. I hope you enjoy it, recip, and thanks for the prompt! :D

There was nothing quite as sweet as young lovers being reunited, and Rothbart took comfort in the knowledge that this would be the last time he saw that particular nauseating sight.

“Didn’t you hear me calling?” he asked with a dangerous edge of suspicion in his voice once he emerged from the shadows. “I thought I heard…voices.”

Odette tried to stammer out an excuse as he dramatically poked around the bushes, but that was the problem with those pure of heart: they were very poor liars, even when they didn’t know Rothbart could hear with the ears of a bat even while in human form.

“Well…I…I…”

“You what?” Rothbart asked, and he waited. With Prince Derek newly embraced and their plan of love hatched, Odette no doubt thought she didn’t have anything to lose.

She was wrong.

“I-I’ve decided to become your queen,” she said with a very pretty curtsy, and Rothbart saw the magic take hold the instant the lie left her lips. She cried out and collapsed on her hands and knees, dirtying the white satin of her dress as she trembled, convulsed, and then eventually went still.

Rothbart chuckled and began to circle her vulnerable form. She’d be coming out of it any second now, changed in every way but the physical, but it wasn’t in him to miss a chance to gloat.

“’Make a vow of everlasting love?’” He mocked. “Did you really think it would be that simple?” He pulled Prince Derek’s bow from beneath his cape and tossed it carelessly into the lake; it turned out he didn’t need it now after all. “All I wanted was for you to let your guard down, and I knew your beau would find you eventually. Then, you’d think you could put me off with false promises.” He leaned down until his lips were almost level with the crown of her golden hair. “But I made a promise to Willy, and I intend to keep it. Everything he owned, everything he loved…will be mine.” He straightened and held out his hand. “Now, come, my dear. We have a wedding to arrange.”

For a moment, Odette stayed frozen, like the spell hadn’t worked.

The next moment, however, she lifted her head, and the look in her deep purple eyes was adoring as she looked up at him.

“Of course, my love,” she murmured, and she placed her slender hand in his, allowing him to pull her to her feet with a grip just a shade too tight.

* * *

Around the time Prince Derek was making his useless vow of everlasting love to Odette’s impostor, Rothbart and Odette were on a ship bound for Eaghton, King Willy’s and now Odette's beloved country. She’d made no protest when Rothbart secured passage under a false name and didn’t disagree when he pretended to be a doting uncle escorting his young niece back to their home country; the moment they were alone, however, he dropped the pretense. Soon people would address him as king and bow when he entered a room, then jump to do his bidding; for now, Odette’s worship alone was all he needed.

He sat on the rickety bed with a sigh, then removed his boots. The floor was hard underneath his feet, and after a moment’s thought, he dropped one of thin pillows in front of his toes; he really would make a benevolent ruler.

“Come, my dear, and service your king-to-be.”

Odette looked at him in blissful confusion, and Rothbart scowled at the delay. It was irritating, how he had to command her explicitly to do anything—almost like she was still fighting him in some small way, doomed as the effort was.

Nevertheless.

“Kneel at my feet,” Rothbart said slowly, and this time she did as he bade. He didn’t bother instructing her again before he grabbed one of her pale hands and pressed it palm-first against his trousers; his cock jumped under the touch, and he spent long minutes rubbing her unresisting hand against the resulting bulge. He wanted to have her now, but he didn’t want there to be any doubt about the legitimacy of their future children, and they had weeks left on this journey, then weeks more until an appropriately splendid wedding could be arranged and he could be crowned the rightful king. The wait was necessary for his plans, but it was still agony knowing that he had to wait to part her silken thighs and spend himself inside her.

He settled for the next best thing, and he dropped her hand to land limply in her lap before fumbling with the ties of his trousers. He was ready to burst already just from the idea of their wedding night, and that was well; he didn’t care for her limp obedience, but enthusiasm was a lot to ask from a spell that suppressed a person’s true will.

“Tell me you love me,” he commanded as he pulled his cock free. It’s size and stiffness surpassed that of any normal man, he was proud to say, but Odette didn't react to the sight because he hadn't told her to.

“I love you,” she said, and her eyes gazed at him in reflection of the words. She would never say his name in her confessions of love, never know him really, but it was worth it for her soft blond hair and petite red mouth. She was the spitting image of Willy’s beloved queen, that foolish king's most cherished love; Rothbart would've taken her if she'd been a hag, but it was better this way, knowing he'd be envied for his beautiful and obedient queen.

“Perfect,” Rothbart said, and he used a thumb to press her mouth open just far enough to push the tip of his cock past her lips and against her soft pink tongue.

* * *

The wedding was as glamorous and majestic as Rothbart could make it, with no expense spared for the savior of their kingdom. Odette’s carefully crafted story had gone over without a hitch, as he’d expected; when she’d told the tale of her father and Prince Derek being savaged by a great beast with tears in her eyes and then looked convincingly awe-struck when she finished by saying that Rothbart had saved her before she too perished, no one had responded with anything but gratitude. It was difficult to fault the only heir to the throne for choosing to reward him with marriage and her heart, given the circumstances, and if anyone thought he looked a little bit like the sorcerer who’d been banished from this kingdom decades ago…well. No one said as much to his face, and the wedding would be finished before anyone learned that Prince Derek was actually alive and magicked into sworn love to a woman twice the age of his mother.

It was almost laughable, how well things had worked out. Even now, Odette was walking up to him, looking as beautiful as a pet; her golden fall of hair had been brushed until it crackled, and her dress showed her slim figure to tantalizing detail. The neckline was modest, of course, as Rothbart’s queen should be, and the skin above it was as delicate as a swan’s feather and just as soft when Rothbart’s fingers brushed her neck, securing his own symbol of heavy jewels and chain lovingly around her throat. That her eyes were glazed and her smile vacant mattered little to him so long as the wedding went off without a hitch, and the idea of being king, the next king to follow good old Willy, was so delightful that he could hardly focus on the ceremony. And then he figured—why should he? What was a king, if not someone who could sate his lust at will?

Midway through the vows, Rothbart raised a hand, and the priest startled and stopped in the middle of his drone about love and sickness and eternity.

“One moment,” he said, and then he turned to Odette. “If I could have a brief word with you, my dear? Won’t take long.”

Odette blinked up at him adoringly.

“Of course, my love,” she murmured, and then she placed her hand in Rothbart’s to be led away.

Rothbart didn’t take her far; with a royal wedding underway, the chapel and surrounding building were deserted, their patrons either attending the wedding or removed for the day. In barely the time it took for the heavy double doors to close behind them, Rothbart saw an old stone staircase that suited him perfectly. If anyone came by, it would only be a servant, and no one would care if Rothbart disposed of them later.

“I’m sorry, my dear Odette,” he said as he turned his lovely bride and began unfastening the buttons on the back of her gown. “I’m a patient man, but a king has no reason to wait. Surely you understand.” 

Odette, of course, didn’t protest, not even when he began baring her skin to the sunlight spilling through the tall windows. He’d been right to ignore all that female frippery when he designed this gown, and there was no chemise or corset to block her body from his gaze, nothing but a single row of buttons and fasteners that stopped just above her lovely derriere. The skin below her shoulder blades was unmarred and warm to the touch, and when he turned her around to face him, the modest neckline of her gown sagged enough that he was able to pull it down past her shoulders and settle it underneath her breasts with only a small rip. 

“Beautiful,” he said, as he skimmed a finger over one nipple. It was tight and pink, the skin around it smooth and pale; a perfect match for the other. “Just beautiful.”

Odette smiled coyly, just like the spell asked her to, and didn’t say a word when Rothbart pushed her backwards and down onto the stairs. Once she was lying flat on her back on the steps, Rothbart lifted her skirt up to her waist, exposing her slim legs and their sheer stockings as well as the golden hair over her plump cunt. He wasted no time in pushing a finger inside her; he was pleased when she gasped at the sudden entry, and a new delighted thought occurred to him. Had she and the foolish Prince Derek ever gone this far? Rothbart guessed not, from the way she stayed stubbornly dry, unused to a man’s touch. 

“My lovely Odette,” he said coaxingly, “won’t you get wet?” He giggled at the rhyme as he moved his finger in and out. She was a tight sheath around his knuckles, and she flinched a little when he pushed deeply enough that his palm came to a stop against her nest of soft curls. “The spell can’t handle this, I know, and I didn’t think to grab anything. It really will be much easier on you if you cooperate.”

Odette blinked up at him uncomprehendingly; the stubborn part of her that was left was buried too deep to be reached. 

“No matter, then.” He was disappointed, but he pulled his hand back towards the fastenings of his trousers anyway. “As I am about to become your husband and your king, this is my right, you know. I don’t know why you insist on doing things the hard way.” He ran his hand over his bared cock, then took a stance between Odette’s petal-soft thighs and pressed the bulbous tip against her cunt. Even just that much looked impossibly large for her small hole, like they were two different species; he generously spent a few seconds rubbing his cock against her, spreading the wetness of what would soon be his seed around her entrance.

When he pushed only a little, she squealed loudly enough that they surely heard her in the pews. There was a frozen moment where he thought it wouldn’t fit after all, but after some steady pressure she yielded to him, just like she should have from the start.

“Oh, Odette,” he groaned as he rocked his hips forward, sinking his cock deeper inside of her as she whimpered and her delicately slippered feet scrambled against stone. It was divine to have her warm and spasming around him, a plundering as sure as the downfall of any city, and he took sadistic pleasure in the knowledge that her resistance meant his size was painful for her even through the haze of a spell. Once he was fully seated, he moved a hand beneath her ass and tilted her hips for a better angle, brushing away the dirt of the stairs as he did so; either she seemed to like it when he touched her gently or else she was trying to move away from the pain, but she pushed back against his gripping hand. Rothbart rewarded her with a gentle pat and a few slow thrusts, and he watched the way her breasts heaved with unsteady breaths as a flush crept up her throat.

She stayed tight around him, the only wetness of her cunt from a natural response to entry, but since it wasn’t painful for him and there was still a wedding waiting for them, Rothbart considered it good enough for the deed. He braced his weight against his hands and jerked his hips back then forward, the force of it driving her back into stone. She cried out and clutched at his shoulders with slender hands, but he only picked up his pace, his movements becoming mindless and animal. There would undoubtedly be bruises on her fair skin after this, but that knowledge wasn’t enough to stop the thrill of victory, the rush of power.

When he could feel himself getting close, Rothbart fisted his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her beautiful, slender neck adorned with its collar of jewels.

“Say you want my cock inside you every night,” he said commandingly, and her blue eyes shimmered.

“I want your cock inside me every night.” Her voice was choked, as though even the spell couldn’t make her sound sincere under such conditions.

Rothbart rocked his hips faster, and her body received him the way a wife’s should.

“Say that I can take you whenever I please, even if it’s on the throne surrounded by a crowd.”

“You can take me whenever you please.”

Rothbart yanked on her hair, and Odette cried out and went tighter around his cock.

“Say that I’m your king. Scream it.”

“You’re my king!” she said with a wail that echoed off the walls. It was just loud enough to cover his groan as he thrust one more time, burying his cock to the hilt in her quivering cunt as he spilled inside her. 

“Well done, my queen,” Rothbart said, and he kissed the tears from the corner of her eyes while his cock softened and shrank. When he pulled out, it was to the sight of her cunt and thighs shining and come coating inside of her skirt; he sighed in satisfaction and arranged the satin of her dress back over her legs, neatly covering the mess of their activities. It took a little more work to rearrange the top of her dress, and he pressed a soft kiss to the inside of one breast before he magicked the rip in the collar away; in a few more hours, he would suckle those breasts, and then she would suckle his cock.

It was good to be nearly king.

“Come, my dear—we have a wedding to finish,” he said once he was through, and he held out a hand to guide her leisurely back to the wedding alter, paying no heed to the come that dripped down her lovely legs.


End file.
